


To Sun Become

by chibipooh



Category: Disney - All Media Types, How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibipooh/pseuds/chibipooh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stoick the Vast arrived in Corona, he expected to suffer lavish balls and pompous nobility, all in the name of aiding his war-torn nation. What he did not expect was to find himself embroiled with an ancient religion and the mysterious girl at the center of it all. With the fates of two nations hanging in the balance, Stoick will discover that sometimes, the brightest path is the deadliest of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! A lot of blood, sweat, and mostly tears went into the creation of this universe. Special thanks to tumblr users bluandorange and rosezemlya. Without their awesome creativity, this fic would still be just a glimmer in my eye. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the work!

In the capital city of the most esteemed country of Corona, a bell tolled. It was joined by another, then another, and soon nothing could be heard over their cacophonous roar. All movement in the city stopped when the bells began. All meals ended and all transactions ceased. With the din of bells still pealing through the sky, the inhabitants of the city made their way towards the main cathedral.

The trek was not a difficult one; the cathedral was easily the most recognizable building in the city outside of the castle. A steady stream of people filed in through the cathedral’s large, oak doors, taking their places among the many mahogany pews. Class lines meant nothing on such a holy day; dukes sat beside pig farmers, barons exchanged pleasantries with shoemakers. Tomorrow they’d all retreat behind their deeply carved societal lines, but today they sat as one.

At the front of the room on a large dais stood a woman, and beside that woman sat a girl. The girl’s golden hair was done up in an intricate design of swirls that stretched out far behind her all the way to the far wall. She moved not a single muscle, not a strand of hair on her head stirred. Her eyes were closed.

The woman scanned the crowd before her, something akin to a smile on her face. Then she raised one hand. The attendants who had been speaking amongst themselves moments earlier instantly fell silent. The woman’s smile grew wider. She took a step forward.

“Praise be to Solaris for this glorious day!” Her voice projected naturally around the cathedral, echoing over it as if she was everywhere at once. The whole crowd leaned forward, excitement running through them like a charge.

“Praise be to Solaris, Highest of High!” roared the crowd.

“Praise be to the Sun, shining bright in the sky!”

“Praise be to Solaris, Brightest of Bright!”

“Praise be to Solaris, Giver of All and Vanquisher of the Night!”

“PRAISE BE TO SOLARIS! PRAISE BE TO SOLARIS!”

The crowd was in an absolute frenzy now. Despite all the commotion, the girl still sat unmoving. When the screaming reached its peak, the woman reached out her hand and the crowd fell silent once again. The woman nodded to someone standing off stage and the doors opened, revealing several members of the royal guard holding a man between them.

The crowd recoiled as the guards passed by half dragging their charge. He was beyond filthy, with sores covering every visible surface and a smell that could be likened only to death wafting off him. The more weak-hearted fainted at the sight of him. When the guards deposited him before the woman and the girl, he fell forward immediately and had to be propped up just so that he could face them. However, this did not deter the woman. Bending down, she shooed away the guards hands away and held the man by the shoulders.

“Do you know why you are here today my child?” asked the woman. The man groaned, his eyes mere slivers. Even the guards on the stage held their hands to their noses, turning their gazes away. The woman frowned.

“The darkness that resides within you has corrupted not only your body but your soul as well. Left to your own devices, there is no doubt you would have died by nightfall.” Several people gasped. The woman’s mysterious smile returned.

“However, do not fear for while you may be flawed, Solaris is not. Through Sol’s infinite light and mercy, you shall be Rekindled. Rapunzel, if you please.”

The girl stood, her hair hanging behind her, a halo enveloping her entire body. Moving gracefully, as if she didn’t even touch the ground, she wrapped her hair around the man, covering him completely from head to toe. When every inch of his body was obscured, she returned to her original position, hands clasped in front of her. Not once did she open her eyes.

“It has been set, Mother,” said Rapunzel. Mother Gothel moved forward, placing her hands on the man’s had.

“And now it shall be lit. Behold the glories bestowed upon those who live their lives in the Light!”

She began to sing.

Hers was a haunting melody, older even than the stones that formed the cathedral wall. The man shivered violently beneath her hands. Then, his shivering ceased completely. Light coursed through the girl’s hair, enveloping every inch of the man’s body. It filled the room with its glow and the crowd watched with awe, eagerly, hungrily. The woman’s voice increased in volume, singing louder and louder until the very earth itself shook with her song.

Then the light ceased and the woman stopped.

With a tantalizing slowness, she unwrapped the hair from the man’s frame. The last strands fell to the ground, revealing the body of the man once more, changed beyond all recognition. The skin that had once born sores and boils was now soft, smooth, and unblemished. His legs did not give way beneath him this time when he stood. At first all he could do was marvel at his new body, relish in his now firm, perfect muscles. Then he threw himself at Rapunzel’s feet, sobbing praises and words of worship. That’s when the crowd went berserk.

This time it took the woman nearly a full minute to regain the attention of the crowd. “For those who have doubts, let them be cast aside! Another soul has been rescued from the evil tendrils of darkness and it is all thanks,” she reached out both arms to gesture at the girl, “to Solaris!”

She did not attempt to quell the crowd’s euphoria this time. Raising her hands skywards, the woman boomed, “In the sun we are born and in the sun we live out each beautiful day until we are rejoined with our maker, one day to Sun become!”

“To Sun become! To Sun become!”

The people of Corona were one entity, one voice, one mind, and in that moment their voice transcended all boundaries. At the head of it all stood the woman, her hands lifted towards the heaven, letting the wave of sound and faith crash over her.

Beside her, the girl still sat with her hands folded in her lap.

The chant rose higher and higher, engulfing the air itself.

“To Sun become! To Sun become! TO SUN BECOME!”

Her eyes remained closed.


	2. Chapter 1

There were few countries within the known lands as mysterious as Corona. The small nation kept to itself, putting out more exports than imports, and generally avoiding conflict on the global scale. The only country more secluded was Arendelle at that was because they actively shut everyone out.

It was at the coastline of Corona that Stoick, next in line for the chiefdom of the Island of Berk and renowned dragon slayer, stared so intensely at. Their vessel had been at sea for close to a month now, and he was fairly certain that he was the only person on the ship not ready to have their legs back on solid ground. Vikings had always had a reverence for the ocean, but Stoick loved it with a ferocity that surprised even himself sometimes.

From so far away, the docks of the capital looked like little more than toys. He was not close enough to make out any people yet, but Stoick could just imagine them bustling around, securing ships, moving cargo, and doing all the things that needed to be done when as ships entered and exited the harbor. Placing both hands on the railing, Stoick leaned forward to get a better look.

A sheen of sweat had already formed on his skin in the short time he’d been up on the upper deck. Stoick wiped at it idly, but to no effect. His father had warned him of the humidity of southern lands before he’d left Berk; however, it was one thing to hear of it and another to actually feel like he was walking through a vat of slightly curdled soup every time he left his cabin. He decided then that he didn’t like heat. No, he didn’t like it one bit.

Aside from the temperature and humidity, everything else about the trip had been better than expected. The sea had been unusually calm for that time of year without a single storm to hinder their progress. Truth be told, Stoick would not have minded a storm or two- nothing fatal, just a small one, anything to spend a little more time out on the open sea. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, letting the sun and the sea air gently wash over his face.

“DRAGONS AHEAD!”

That broke the spell. In one fluid motion, Stoick grabbed his hammer, pulled back into a defensive stance, and began scanning the skies for the usual plumes of smoke and fire that signalled an incoming dragon attack. Sunlight blinding his eyes, he howled, “LOWER THE MAINSAIL! ALL AVAILABLE HANDS ON DECK, READY THE CANNONS AND what in the name of -“

In front of Stoick stretched nothing but the midsummer sky, as blue and dragonless as it had been when he’d closed his eyes mere moments ago. A quick scan of the area confirmed that they were indeed not in danger of dying a fiery death at sea. The only thing out of place was the wide and slightly bewildered eyes of the crew, all frozen in whatever task they’d been working at to watch Stoick’s outburst. They stared at him. He stared back.

“That,” came an all too familiar voice from the stairs leading below decks, “is what it would sound like were we still on Berk.” Red coloring his cheeks, Stoick put his hammer back in place with a scowl. 

“Why you filthy-“

“Uh uh uh.” A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Is that anyway for a future chief of Berk to speak?” asked the man, giving Stoick a wide grin. Stoick returned the grin with a glare.

“Go fuck yourself, Gobber.”

Gobber was Stoick’s oldest friend, most trusted companion, and largest source of headaches. The two had spent probably a week apart at most since they were born; when Stoick’s father had informed him of the diplomatic mission to Corona, Gobber had showed up to Stoick’s hut with his bags packed before Stoick could even pull on his boots to go tell him. Stoick may have preferred to smash himself in the face with his hammer than admit it, but there was no one else he wanted by his side on his first trip away from home, even if his jokes were poorly timed. Just being in the presence of his old friend calmed him down more than any sky could. Rolling his eyes, Stoick finally broke out into a wide smile as well.

“So how much longer till landfall?” asked Gobber, stifling a huge yawn. Stoick returned to his place at the railing.

“Captain says an hour at most. Maybe less if the wind changes,” he replied.

“Oh good. That means we have a whole hour to prepare ourselves for these loonies.”

“Not loonies, boys. Devout.”

Both boys turned at that comment. Up walked Hraka Strumfist, striding along the deck with a swagger that would have put even the village champion to shame. She spun a long, leather whip around and around her finger. Gobber had to step back to avoid being hit in the face. Hraka came to a stop in front of the two and gave them both pointed looks.

“Had you actually attempted to even look at the reading I recommended before we left, you would know that the Coronians are renowned for their intense religious devotion” said Hraka sternly. Stoick at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Though she was shorter than the both of them, Hraka had a way of making Stoick feel like she was always looking down on him. She was the official ambassador from Berk to all other nations, and one of the few people on the island who was a better talker than fighter. If her scars and whip were anything to go by, then she was a very, very good talker indeed. Gobber yawned once more.

“In my defense, the books made a better table prop than they ever did entertainment,”he joked. Hraka frowned.

“Be sure to offer up that excuse when we’re all hanged and quartered for insulting their deity on their own soil,” she snapped.

“They don’t actually do that, do they? Execute people for insulting their religion?” asked Stoick.

“It depends on the slight, perceived or otherwise,” she replied, with less vitriol than she had for Gobber. “Though it’s not as common now, one can never be too careful.” Stoick nodded. Most Berks followed the religion of Odin and the other old gods and their funeral rites still mentioned Valhalla, the final resting place of all warriors, but overall they were rather lax when it came to worship. Stoick couldn’t imagine anyone being murdered for something as small as an insult. After all, they couldn’t afford to lose citizens so easily.

“Exactly who is this super-secret, all powerful, murder-worthy god?” asked Gobber. At this, Hraka smiled. She took a single finger and pointed it towards the sky.

“Solaris.”

Stoick looked up. The sky stretched around them infinitely, merging into a blue blur where it met the sea. Directly in the middle of it all, the Sun blazed down onto them. Stoick’s eyes went wide.

“They worship the sun,” he said, his voice full of awe. Hraka nodded.

“Yes, though ‘worship’ is an understatement. Try ‘devote every fiber and essence of their being to’. Legend has it that night was once so reviled that anyone who died after the sun went down had been rejected by the heavens, so they’d deny them a proper burial. To this day, you’ll be hard pressed to find a Coronian out on the streets after sundown.” Hraka’s eye lit up as she spoke about the Coronians and their strange customs. Stoick and Gobber looked at one another, having a conversation without actually saying anything. Realizing that no one was actually listening to her spiel, Hraka stopped, analyzing the concerned looks on both boys faces. Then she laughed.

“Would you look at that, two big, strong Vikings shivering in their boots thanks to an old wives tale!” chortled Hraka, slapping Stoick hard on the back. “The Coronians may be strict, but they’re harmless. Trust me lads, this trip is going to be easier than a babe’s first sword fitting.” Wincing slightly, Stoick could do nothing but nod.

“So here’s my question,” asked Gobber, his tone turning serious. “Why do we even care about Corona in the first place? It takes nearly an eternity to get there and there’s nothing we can get from them we can’t harvest ourselves or trade a nearer country for.” Gobber may have played a convincing fool, but Stoick knew better than anyone else just how sharp he could really be. Luckily, Stoick already knew the answer to his question.

“Resources back home are lower than they’ve ever been. We’re losing sheep faster than we can breed them and close to a third of our crop bearing fields were burned to a crisp last year.” Stoick turned to look out at the coastline once more, a solemn tone creeping into his voice. “Corona is the only unallied access point to the mainland left, meaning if we can secure an alliance with them then we’d never have to worry about raw materials again,” he finished. Twiddling her whip in her fingers, Hraka gave Stoick an approving smile, the first one he could remember receiving from her since, well, ever.

“We might just make a chief out of you yet, Stoick. Diplomacy may not be as glamorous as mounting a dragon head on a spike, but it’s about ten times harder.” She placed the whip into a holder on her waist and secured it in place.

“But that’s what makes our job so important. If you learn one thing on this trip from me, boys, let it be this: Berk first. Berk always. Do I make myself clear?” she asked. They nodded.

Hraka looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, a voice from the back of the ship bellowed out, “TEN MINUTES TO SHORE. ALL HANDS GET READY FOR DOCKING.” Hraka sighed, pulling away from the railing.

“I believe that’s my cue. Stop standing around like a sack of lumber and make yourselves useful.

They watched as Hraka began to walk towards the stairs that would take her to the inner sanctum of the ship. Then she paused, and turned back to face them.

“Let me be the first to say, welcome to Corona. If you get us killed, I will murder you.” And then she was gone, off to prepare only Odin knew what. Completely at a loss for words, Stoick turned to his friend. Gobber grinned.

“I like her.”

*~*~*

If Stoick had to pick a word to describe his first impression of Corona, it would be cramped. Their small delegation had made it out of the docks easily enough, but it seemed as one got closer to the center of the city, the streets got smaller and narrower to the point where they were basically walking single file.

“The castle was built on the hill first on the principle that- excuse me, coming through- on the principle that the monarchs needed to be as close to Solaris as possible. As it turned out, the hill turned out to be the best possible vantage point for- watch where you’re pulling that thing!- as I was saying, the hill made them almost impossible to attack, so the village sprung up around it over the centuries into the metropolis you now see,” lectured Hraka as they weaved through the crowded streets. She had to shot to be heard of the din of people. Stoick nodded along as if he was listening, doing his best not to slam some poor person into the wall. What Hraka was saying was probably valuable information that he should be filing away for any chiefly duties he may have later, but it was hard to focus on her when one wrong step would send him tumbling into some poor shopkeeper’s stand.

“Scrawny looking bunch, aren’t they,” said Gobber as he stepped gingerly over a child sleeping right in the pathway. “You’d think they’d never seen a couple of Vikings before.”

“They probably haven’t,” replied Stoick grimly. Gobber was right; the Coronians were openly gaping at them. Stoick didn’t want to admit how easily their stares unsettled him. He knew there was no malicious intent in their actions and that it was just their hulking size and unusual dress making them stand out so badly, but his hand couldn’t help but twitch towards his weapon at every pair of eyes that looked his way.

If that wasn’t bad enough, there was also the suns. On every possible surface there could be a sun, there was one. They engraved into the sides of buildings, embroidered on the clothes fluttering in the breeze of the day, and adorned on murals located throughout the streets. Somehow, it felt like the suns were watching him even more than the people were. Stoick bowed his head, focusing on his feet so he wouldn’t have to keep looking at the strange insignia.

A dog waddled up to him, a Coronian sun shaved into its matted fur. Stoick stopped to stare at it, an amused grin on his face.

“Hey Gobber, come take a look at this,” he called out. There was no reply. “…Gobber?”

Stoick turned around. Gobber wasn’t there. He looked over his other shoulder. Gobber wasn’t there either. In fact, none of the Berk delegation was around. Slightly concerned, Stoick scratched the small dog behind its torn ear. Hadn’t he been listening to Hraka’s lecture just a second ago? When had he lost them? The dog with the sun at its side gazed up at him with large brown eyes. “I guess it’s just you and me now,” said Stoick. The dog yawned. Stoick wiped some sweat from his brow.

At least he knew where he needed to go. Sitting at the top of the hill, it was impossible to miss the castle. All Stoick needed to do was go up. Without a second thought, he picked a street that looked like it headed upwards and went down it, the small dog trotting at his heels.

It took less than ten minutes for Stoick to realize how foolishly naive he’d been. The castle might have been the most noticeable thing on the capital, but the path to get to it was not. The twist and turns of the streets often led to dead ends, forcing him to turn around more than once and giving him the nagging feeling that he was wandering around in circles. It didn’t help that the buildings were so absurdly close together, probably to conserve space on their island home though Stoick didn’t doubt that it had been done solely to spite him. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, he was walking uphill as well.

The sun, which had been high in the sky when he’d began is little trek, was now sinking low behind the buildings. Stoick probably would have appreciated the sunset more under better circumstances, such as from the balcony of the guest room in the castle surrounded by a nice bath. As the sky darkened overhead, the number of people on the street slowly began to dwindle until Stoick was lucky to see one person every couple of blocks. He wanted to stop someone, anyone, and ask them for directions to the castle, but they were all too skittish to let him get a sentence in before he bolted. One mother even rushed her children into the house when he so much as glanced at them, leaving Stoick out in the street trying not to scream in frustration.

Finally, Stoick came across a stand that had yet to close. He approached it with what he hoped was a non-intimidating air.

“I’m so sorry to bother you.” The vendor literally jumped at Stoick’s words, banging a hand on the corner of his stand. Stoick grimaced, slightly unnerved now as well, but continued, “Would you be able to direct me to the castle?”

The vendor stared at him with wide eyes so long that Stoick wondered whether or not he should just walk away and get back to wandering the streets when the vendor grabbed him by the arm. Stoick tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight.

“You’re a foreigner…of course…of course…only a foreigner out tonight,” he muttered. Stoick squirmed uselessly in his grasp.

“Let go of me!” he yelled, but the old man held fast. Without looking up, the old man rummaged through some goods with his free hand. Giving a triumphant “Aha!” when he found what he was looking for, the man leaned forward and tied something around Stoick’s wrist.

“There you go…best charm in the whole city…full protection.” He talked so low and fast that Stoick could only capture every other phrase. Finally, the old man let go and Stoick jumped backwards.

“Alright, thank you for…whatever you just did. But I have no Coronian money on me so I can’t accept this.” The old man laughed, revealing several missing teeth.

“Take it as a gift. May your path stay well lit.”

“…Thank you…”

There wasn’t anything Stoick could say to that. He looked down at his new adornment. It was nothing fancy, just a simple meal bracelet with a single charm in the shape of the Solaris emblem that had followed him around the city. Stoick grimaced at it. He attempted to remove the bracelet, but with only one hand it was nearly impossible. Stoick sighed.

“As I said before, could you direct me to-”

Stoick stared open mouthed at the spot where the old man had been standing merely a second before. He was sure he hadn’t heard him move from behind the stand at all. Stoick peered over the counter. Nothing.

“I must be more tired than I thought,” he muttered under his breath. The dog licked at his leg affectionately. Feeling more lost than ever, Stoick continued on his way. 

Night had fully set in now, and Stoick still had no idea where he was. His back was fully drenched now with sweat pooling at the bottom of his heavy wool boots. He’d brought a change of clothes for the warmer weather, but had not had the foresight to change into them before leaving the ship. Now he was paying the price. Every single step felt like he was wading through a swamp of must and stickiness. He turned down into a dead end, sighed, then turned around.

Hraka hadn’t been kidding when she said the Coronians feared the night; there was not a single creature on the streets aside from Stoick and his dog. Odin’s beard, Hraka. She was going to kill him. He wondered if they’d sent a search party out to find him, or if the King and Queen were so devout as to let a foreign dignitary roam through the streets all night rather than break custom. A bead of sweat dripped into his eyes, burning horribly, and he rubbed at it angrily.

He couldn’t walk any longer. Stoick finally collapsed at the edge of a small, fenced courtyard behind a rather ornate building. The best plan of action would be to spent the night there, then wait for daybreak when people would be out and about and he’d be able to convince and/or bribe someone into helping him. It was not the most ideal option, but he was really in no place to complain.

Sensing that they had stopped for good, the small dog circled around, then lay itself in the crook of Stoick’s elbow. He regarded it fondly, patting at its head.

“It’s been nice of you to accompany me all day,” he told the animal. “But your owner has to be missing you by now, aren’t they?” The dog didn’t reply, not the Stoick had expected it to. He yawned, shifting up against the wall for a more comfortable position. “I if you have no owner, you can stay with me for a little while,” he mumbled, eyes drooping. “But only a little while.”

It was pitch black aside from the small ring of silver from the clouds covering the moon.With the small dog no tucked safely under his arm, Stoick settled in for what would probably be the most uncomfortable sleep of his life.

Behind him in the courtyard, a tree rustled.

Stoick’s eyes flew open. He lay on the ground fully alert, his breath still. No other sound came. It was probably just the wind, he assured himself, it was a breezy night plus no one in this city would dare to walk around so late. All the years of dragon fighting had made him too paranoid. Slowly, Stoick relaxed back onto the ground.

The rustling came once again.

“I know you’re there!” Stoick leapt up, hammer in hand. The dog tumbled down onto the ground. “Come out where I can see you!”

Stoick had never been afraid of the dark before and he wasn’t going to start tonight. He moved out towards the fence and tree, eyes continuously scanning the area. A breeze shifted the clouds above, flooding the small clearing with moonlight. Stoick began to wonder if he had not imagined it all, when a flash of what looked like a golden rope caught his eye. He stepped forward into the light.

There was the flash of gold again, a small yell, and the kind of sound that could only be made by a heavy head hitting hard, pure rock.

Stoick wasn’t sure how long he laid there on the ground, blinking away stars. Slowly, the world moved back into focus and he sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of his head. The person who had fallen on top of him stood up, glaring down at him. 

“What are you doing out here? You’re not supposed to be out” she hissed.

“Why do people keep saying that?” he snapped. Stoick was one of the most patient people he knew, but what was left of his patience had fizzled out sometime between swimming in his own shoes and being manhandled by an old man.

“And what about you? If I’m not supposed to be out then you-” Stoick stood up as well, swaying slightly. “-most definitely should not be out attacking people.”

“I did not attack you!”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to believe falling on people from the sky is a normal thing around here?”

Even though Stoick literally towered over her, the younger girl stood her ground, staring at him with a gaze so defiant he wouldn’t be surprised if she attacked him again right there. He could see now that what he’d mistaken for a golden flash earlier was actually her hair, longer than any he’d ever seen before and bright like spun gold. It circled out from under her dark hood and she held it with a grip so tight he was surprised it didn’t shear off right in her hand.

The two were standing so close Stoick could count each of the freckles dusting the cheeks of her dark face.

“You don’t…you don’t know who I am, do you?” asked the girl. He realized then that he’d been staring. Stoick coughed slightly, pulling away. “Tell me where you’re from,” said the girl. It was a demand, not a question. From her tone of voice, he could tell she was used to having her orders followed. Normally he would have stubbornly refused such a direct demand, but he was tired and confused and so when he just answered, “I’m from Berk, up north. I was on my way to the castle when I got lost.”

The girl’s eyes went wide. “Oh no,” she whispered. Stoick cocked his head.

“Is everything alright?” The words were barely out of his mouth before she had turned and fled. At first he just stared after her, but then he heard a “Follow me!” and because this was not even the strangest thing to happen to him all day, he took off after her into the night.

*~*~*

The girl knew her way through the city well. She led Stoick down streets and alleys he wasn’t sure he would have noticed even in the day time. She ran fast and he lost sight of her more than once, but then he’d see a flash of gold and fall back onto the path. His legs screamed in agony from the day’s overexertion, but he didn’t stop.

“Wait! Hold Up!” called out Stoick, panting as he leapt over an upturned cart. What was she doing out so late? Why was her hair so long? Was she aware that if he ran any longer he was actually going to pass out? All the questions rattled around in his brain, but his mind’s determination yo keep going won out over his body’s desire to fall apart. Everything else began to blur together until all he could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other and not losing sight of the blonde blur in front of him.

Around them, the scenery changed. The dingy, unkempt houses gave way to well kept, heavily ornamented abodes. It became even harder to breathe than it had been before and Stoick realized that while he had been so busy trying not to pass out completely, she had lead them to the back of the castle.

The girl disappeared behind a rusty door covered in vines. Stoick followed. The bright torchlight of the hallway burned after hours of nothing but moonlight, and Stoick found himself wiping away tears. He guessed they were at the bottom level, somewhere near where they held the dungeons by the looks and smell of it. They reached a darkened staircase and the girl finally stopped. Panting heavily, Stoick leaned up against the wall.

“These stairs will take you up to the main foyer. Head down the hallway there into the servants wing, and you’ll find someone who can take you to your quarters.” Wiping the sweat from his face, Stoick looked up at her.

“And where are you going to go?” he asked, more confused than angry. He still couldn’t fully see her face under her large hood, but he swore he could feel her grinning at him.

“Don’t worry yourself with that.” There were so many more things Stoick wanted to ask her, such as if she had meant to almost kill him with that little run, but before he could voice any of his questions, she was gone, disappearing just as the old man had earlier. Stoick was too tired to be surprised at this point.

The path led him straight to the servants wing, just as the girl had instructed. He felt bad for startling the poor maid who found him standing sweat and dirt covered on the beautiful hardwood floor. She lead him to his quarters, promising to alert the King and Queen of his arrival and to have a new set of clothes sent up immediately. Stoick nodded along as she babbled, eyes drooping dangerously once more.

At long last, he made it to his room. The bed had to be the single most beautiful sight Stoick had ever seen and it took all he had not to fling himself onto it fully clothed. He was just getting off his boots when the door flew open.

“Stoick! Hopping Gronckles man, where have you been??” Stoick groaned.

“Please, Gobber, I’ve had a very, very long day, so if you could just leave me to pass out in peace, it would be much appreciated.” Bounding the room in one short stride, Gobber grabbed Stoick by his shoulders, looking him up and down.

“You’d better enjoy that sleep while you can. Hraka’s out of your blood. Something about having a pile of Night Fury shit where your brain should be.” Stoick sighed and Gobber patted his back understandingly.

“Seriously, what happened to you? And what’s with the bracelet? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a jewelry guy.” Stoick knew his friend was just being curious, but he didn’t have it in him to answer any of his questions. He shook his head.

“Gobber, please,” he sighed. “Can this wait until tomorrow?” The blonde boy watched him carefully, before breaking into an understanding smile.

“Right then. I’ll leave you be,” said Gobber. He pulled back. “Don’t you worry me like that again, alright?” Stoick sat onto the bed, pulling off his last boot.

“Right, because you were so worried about me,” remarked Stoick, not unkindly. Gobber gave a sound of mock indignation.

“I’ll have you know I was only able to eat two pheasants, I was so worried about you!” he exclaimed. Stoick cracked a smile at that one. He reached out to squeeze his friends hand.

“Thanks Gobber.” Gobber smiled and squeezed back, his hand lingering on Stoick’s a moment longer than necessary.

“Any time. Now get your behind into bed, you look worse than Old Helga on cow flogging day.” They both shuddered. Edging towards the door, Gobber gave one last look at his friend. “Good night you old stick in the mud. Don’t fall on your hammer.”

“Don’t get yourself eaten by a Gronckle,” replied Stoick, reciting their customary nightly phrase with ease. The door finally clicked shut, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Stoick sat on the bed in his smallclothes. Now that he finally had a chance to sleep, he couldn’t. Instead he sat and he thought. When he leaned back, he could just see the moon, peeking out from behind some clouds.

Far away from Stoick’s quarters on the other side of the castle, a girl pulled a brush through her long, long hair.


End file.
